


Neither Authority nor Obedience

by Vitreous_Humor



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aftercare, Ageplay, Blood, Daddy Kink, Dark, Dirty Talk, Dominant Crowley (Good Omens), Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Manipulation, Pseudo-Incest, Roleplay, Rough Oral Sex, Seduction, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 18:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitreous_Humor/pseuds/Vitreous_Humor
Summary: “Don't be angry with me, Daddy,” Crowley said softly.The change in Aziraphale was sudden. A red blush flooded his face, and he took two steps back to his desk.“Anthony. Stop it. You are far too old to call me that.”Crowley closed the space between them, tilting his head in a slightly winsome, slightly menacing manner.“Oh, but youlikeit when I call you that, don't you?Ilike it.”





	Neither Authority nor Obedience

**Author's Note:**

> Please check the tags!

It was almost three in the morning by the time Crowley unlocked the bookshop's front door. He had been eager enough that he'd spent at least an hour at the curry place around the corner, fidgeting with his phone in the back corner until his alarm went off. This wasn't one of those games that they could leave to chance, just spring whenever one of them had a particular mood. No, Aziraphale had insisted on a proper time and place, and when the angel said three in the morning, he meant it.

He locked and bolted the door behind him, prowling through the dark rows of shelves, liking the feeling of being someplace he ought not be, after hours and when no one was around. The only light came from under the door of the rear office. Crowley hesitated for a moment, and then he took a deep breath, pushing it open. Aziraphale, sitting at the desk with his back to Crowley, didn't look up or turn around. Crowley could hear the gentle scratch of a fountain pen nib on good paper, and he could smell the irritation rising off of the angel like the scent of snuffed matches.

“It's three in the morning,” Aziraphale said shortly. “The concert was at eight.”

“Was it?” asked Crowley with a faint toothy grin. “Oops.”

“Where in the world have you been?”

“Got busy, I guess. Some of the boys were having a thing over in Shoreditch. I lost track of time. Don't be _mad.”_

Aziraphale turned in the chair to give him a dire look.

“I suppose that this is where I should waste my time giving you a speech about respecting the time and interests of those important to you.”

“Sounds like something you'd do.”

“I'm not going to bother. What good does it do? What good has it _ever_ done?”

Crowley affected a pout, one shoulder hitched up against the door jamb, hands shoved into his pockets.

“I always liked it,” he said. “Made me feel, y'know, cared about. Special.”

Crowley watched greedily for the slight widening in Aziraphale's eyes, the faint tremble in his lips, before the angel straightened up with a glare.

“Honestly. If you do not know that you are cared about by now, after everything, I don't know what else I could possibly do.”

“You could tell me again,” Crowley coaxed. “Tell me how important it is to you that I show up when I say I'm going to. Tell me you raised me better than this.” His voice lowered a little. “Send me straight to bed...”

Aziraphale's shoulders hitched up for a moment before he straightened. His eyes flickered up and down Crowley's body and then he jerked his head away, turning back to his papers.

“Aren't you even going to apologize, Anthony? I _did_ raise you to honor your commitments.”

Crowley felt a tremulous urge to say sorry. It felt so very good to be Aziraphale's good boy, but that wasn't the point of this evening, and he folded the urge away neatly.

“You tried to teach me a lot of things,” he said, drifting closer. He ghosted his hand over the fine hairs at the back of Aziraphale's neck, pulling back quickly before he could be swatted away.

“You are being a pest.”

“Oh, so you wanted me at eight, and you don't want me at three? Seems a bit cruel, doesn't it?”

“You're out at all hours with your... friends... but you know that I am usually not awake at this time at all. I can hardly be blamed for-”

“Then why are you up? Thought you'd be fast asleep by now.”

Crowley wished he could see Aziraphale's face just then, but the angel kept his head bent, passing a tired hand over his eyes.

“I was just going to bed when you came in.”

“You stayed up to watch for me, didn't you?” asked Crowley, his voice softening. He could see the brief struggle in Aziraphale's mind, the irritation warring with the angel's genuine need to give affection and assurance.

“I don't _sleep _well until you're home. Silly of me. You're a grown man with your own flat, and as you keep pointing out, you hardly need me waiting up for you with soup and questions about how your night went.”

Crowley smiled a little.

“Vegetable soup and toast. I liked that.”

“Me too.”

Aziraphale's smile was enough to break Crowley's heart, and that was before he wiped it away, giving Crowley a tired look.

“I don't want to fight,” he said heavily. “If you wish to speak about this in the morning we can, but I am going to bed.”

He rose from the chair, pausing as he realized that there was no way to get to the door, not without pushing Crowley out of his way. Crowley smiled as if he didn't notice.

“Don't be angry with me, Daddy,” he said softly.

The change in Aziraphale was sudden. A red blush flooded his face, and he took two steps back to his desk.

“Anthony. Stop it. You are far too old to call me that.”

Crowley closed the space between them, tilting his head in a slightly winsome, slightly menacing manner.

“Oh, but you_ like _it when I call you that, don't you? _I _like it.”

Aziraphale swallowed, eyes darting down to Crowley's mouth and then back up to meet his eyes.

“I don't. You are, as you keep reminding me, not a child anymore. That's something a child would call me, isn't it?”

“So what if it is? It feels good when I call you that. Reminds me of when we were closer.”

“We... we're still close. You're an _adult _now, living on your own. You must know that that would change things.”

Crowley felt a shudder go through him, not necessarily pleasant and at once exactly what he needed. He wanted that slight rejection, that push, because it was the only way he would ever be able to push back.

“What if I didn't want it to change things?” he said, letting some of the hurt into his voice. “What if I liked things better when... when you still loved me?”

That was patently unfair, and even in the state where he half-believed this scenario that he and Aziraphale had put together a few nights ago, he knew it. The lie was worth it to see the stricken look on Aziraphale's face, to see his eyes go wide, and his jaw drop.

“Oh my dear,” he said, obviously distressed. “Of _course_ I love you. Of course I do, I never stopped. I would never, ever stop, how could you even think...?”

Aziraphale cupped his hand over the side of Crowley's face, thumb sliding over his cheekbone with exquisite gentleness. For a moment, the angel's distress made him want to tear up, and it took Crowley a moment to remember that this was allowed. Aziraphale made a soft upset noise when he felt that wetness, pulling Crowley into a warm embrace.

“My dear boy, I'm so very sorry. I had no idea you felt this way...”

_Sucker._

Once he was in Aziraphale's arms, it was easy to lean into him, to pin him against the desk with their hips snug to each other. Crowley grabbed on to Aziraphale's lapels, holding the angel in place as he nuzzled the side of his neck. He felt the way Aziraphale's body stiffened and hurried to calm him, sighing a little.

“I've just missed you so much. I've _needed _you so much. You were always there for me, and then...”

Crowley almost laughed with delight when Aziraphale murmured with sorrow, instinctively wrapping his arms around Crowley and pulling him even closer.

“You've always been so very independent. I suppose I never thought that you would... need or want me around after you grew up...”

“Always,” Crowley insisted, pressing his face against Aziraphale's hair. “Always, I'll always want you, always need you...”

“My darling boy...”

For a moment, Crowley simply luxuriated in Aziraphale's love, pure and passionate and completely without hesitation. It felt good, it always did, but that wasn't the prize he was after tonight.

Instead, he tucked his body tightly against Aziraphale's, rocking against him so lightly that it could have been an accident.

“And you won't make me leave? You won't make me go away?”

“Never...”

Crowley turned his head just a fraction, and then they were kissing, his ravenous mouth on Aziraphale's slack lips, his tongue invading the angel's mouth as if he could devour that spark of goodness that he had somehow kept throughout six thousand years. When Aziraphale sputtered in protest, Crowley's hands tightened on his jacket. He didn't stop until he had to come up for breath, and the looking of fear and shame in Aziraphale's eyes made his heart beat faster. He realized in a distant way that he was getting hard, but it was almost a secondary pleasure to watching Aziraphale just now.

“Anthony! That is- that's _completely_ inappropriate. You cannot just... just kiss me as if I was your lover.”

“Why not? I love you.”

“You know very well why not,” Aziraphale said. His hands came up, wrapping around Crowley's wrists as if he meant to push him away, but there was no conviction in it at all.

“Daddy, don't you love me?”Crowley purred. “You said you did...”

“Of course I- oh!”

Crowley reached down between them, cupping his hands over the growing bulge tenting the angel's trousers. He squeezed meaningfully.

“_I_ think you're a liar,” Crowley murmured in his ear. “I think maybe you pulled away because of _this, _and because you were afraid of what you wanted. What you might do.”

“Anthony, please,” Aziraphale whispered, wincing a little as Crowley's hand tightened briefly. “Please. I love you. I only ever wanted what was best for you...”

His words were cut off when Crowley started to rub him through the fabric of his trousers, his touch languid but firm, completely uncompromising.

“Then tell me the truth. Tell me what you want.”

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head even as his hips bucked against Crowley's hand.

“I... I...”

“It's all right,” Crowley murmured soothingly. “I've known for a long time time now. And you know what? I would let you. I would let you have _anything_ you want. Whatever it was.”

The moan that Aziraphale uttered was a humiliated sound, but it didn't stop him from pushing into Crowley's hand. Crowley undid his trousers, and for a moment, he thought the angel might come at the first touch of his hand to bare flesh. Instead, Crowley got to continue stroking him as he murmured in his ear. He rocked against Aziraphale's hip as he did so, making sure the angel could feel his own erection as well.

“Do you want to spank me? We could do that. Go back up to my room, give me a good telling-off. You never did more than that, but maybe you wanted to. Get me all bare and squirming over your lap. If you did it hard enough, I bet you could make me beg to suck you off.”

Eyes still shut tight and his face red, Aziraphale shook his head hard.

“Don't want to hurt you. Never, ever that,” he panted, and Crowley felt something melt inside him. He rewarded his angel with a soft kiss to the cheek.

“We could pretend it was my first time,” he suggested, lapping gently at Aziraphale's ear. “I could be all shy and blushing, beg you to be gentle with me, be all nervous that it might hurt. You'd like that, I bet. You would be _so _nice to me, you would take _such _good care of me, wouldn't you, Daddy?”

Aziraphale groaned, pressing his hot face against Crowley's neck. He was clinging to the edge of his desk so hard Crowley was surprised the wood hadn't splintered. He looked like a man barely holding himself together, as if the least blow would shatter him.

“Or maybe... maybe you just want me to do as I please? Maybe you want me to _take_ you, no explanations, no excuses, just have you, because you're mine and I can't resist you anymore than you can resist me?”

“Yes!” Aziraphale gasped, even as he looked like he wanted to burst into tears. “Yes, that, please. Please, Anthony, please, I want you, want you _most_, I always have...”

Crowley groaned, grabbing Aziraphale's face in an almost punishingly hard grip and yanking him up. The kiss was savage, as much tooth as tongue, and Aziraphale cried out when Crowley nipped too hard, splitting his lip. Even that didn't make Crowley pull back. He only lapped at the blood greedily because it was Aziraphale's and thus his, his by right, and he couldn't wait any longer.

“C'mon,” he hissed. “On your knees...”

Aziraphale dropped with gratifying quickness, and Crowley's hand came back to clasp the back of his head. There was nothing graceful or elegant about the way Aziraphale scrabbled at the front of his jeans, but the desperation and need and shame were so much better than something pretty.

“Oh, good, _good, _that's right... Just take it, that's right, just for me, because you love me, because you would do _anything _I want...”

His first instinct was to shove his cock straight down the angel's throat, make him gag and cry, but he couldn't do that, could he? Not to his _daddy, _who had always loved him, always cared for him and put him first. No, he couldn't do that.

Instead, Crowley kept one hand at the back of Aziraphale's head while the other squeezed the base of his cock, making sure the angel didn't take too much at once. He rocked slowly into Aziraphale's mouth, making sure that his bitten lip got the full benefit of the drag of skin, making sure that Aziraphale knew exactly what was happening.

The whining, pleading little sounds Aziraphale made were delicious, hands flat on Crowley's thighs as he begged silently for more. Crowley could be absolutely undone by the way the angel looked up at him with those big blue eyes, almost bewildered at how he had come to be in this situation.

“Oh, look at you,” Crowley crooned. “Just _look _at you. What would everyone think if they could see you now? Not so very proud and noble now, are you?”

He pressed just a little bit deeper into Aziraphale's mouth, groaning a little at the pleasure of it.

“No, and everyone always wondered how you got a bad thing like me for your own, and of course they didn't know. Didn't know that you had this in you the whole time, that this was what you wanted from me and for yourself...”

Aziraphale's eyes widened somehow and the choked noises he uttered, Crowley presumed, were protests. He fed the angel another inch of his cock, touching the back of his throat, and Aziraphale's hands fisted on his thighs as he choked desperately around it.

“Can you imagine if I were just a lost little lamb, all nice and polite? What a cock-up that would have been. And maybe if you spent less time chasing after me to be kind and to mind my manners, maybe you would have gotten more time with your own thoughts, and what then? Would you have opened the door while I was showering, just a little accident, of course? Would you have come to my bed at night?”

Aziraphale was struggling now, shoulders twitching like he was fighting to keep his wings in, nails digging into Crowley's hips. His eyes were squeezed tight, and there were tears running down his red face; Crowley wasn't sure how he wasn't getting bitten to fuck, but he would take it.

“But here we are, and aren't we lucky? I'm me, you're you, and Daddy, oh, I love you so much.”

On the last word, he pressed the full length of his cock into Aziraphale's throat, both hands in the angel's hair as he stroked himself off. He could feel the painful scrape of Aziraphale's teeth along the shaft, the wetness and heat of something the angel would surely have given him if he hadn't chosen to take it. It was some combination of the angel's pathetic noises, the sensation of hitting Aziraphale's limits and then treading all over that line and the vicious triumph in his own mind that tipped him over the edge. He growled as he spilled down Aziraphale's throat, not letting go until he was shaking with release, until he was sure that the angel had every last drop.

Aziraphale pulled away as soon as Crowley let him go, on all fours on the ground, sides heaving like a bellows. Crowley knelt next to him as soon as he stuffed his cock back into his jeans, petting Aziraphale's shoulders and stroking his hair.

“There's a love,” he murmured. “You're all right, you're fine...”

“Am I?” asked Aziraphale wildly, looking up at him. Crowley could see the white all the way around his eyes, like a spooked horse. His chin and the front of his shirt was soaked, blood and saliva both making a wretched mess. If he looked at that too long, he was going to get turned on again, and that wasn't fair, given that Aziraphale hadn't had a go yet himself.

“You are,” Crowley said firmly. “You are. Come on, up you get. We had better take care of that cut.”

It would have been the simplest thing to miracle away Aziraphale's split lip, but sometimes it left him more confused and upset than not. Crowley didn't quite follow the difference, but he didn't have to. All he needed to know was that right then, Aziraphale needed to be led to the bright and cheery kitchen at the back of the shop, to be sat at the table and to be allowed to be quiet as Crowley wet a paper towel and used it to clean away the blood and dab at the cut, and then given another damp towel so he could wipe his face.

“That one's got to sting,” Crowley murmured, looking at the small wound with the blood sponged away.

“And who's fault is that?” Aziraphale asked. He couldn't smile, not and avoid the split reopening, but his eyes were bright and amused. Crowley felt a tension between his shoulders relax a little.

“Mine, totally mine,” he said, and Aziraphale huffed a soft laugh, leaning in to nuzzle the side of Crowley's face.

“Was that what you were hoping for, dear?”

“Yeah. I mean, I'm gonna spend a lot of time thinking about it in the next little bit, but they're all good thoughts.”

“I honestly thought you were going to be meaner than that.”

“Got there. Didn't want to be, I guess. Hope you're not disappointed, angel?”

“Oh no, when I have a particular need for you to be mean, I always tell you. But I do find myself wondering...”

“Go on.”

“How much of that _was_ about God and the fall?”

Crowley refused to blush or stammer. He had done enough of that when they were figuring all of this out, thank you.

“I mean, it's me, so let's say anywhere from between ten and thirty percent, given the moment?”

Aziraphale smiled as best he could.

“Just wondering. It felt like you were there with me the whole time, so I won't worry myself.”

Crowley frowned.

“I always am, angel, no matter what we're doing.” He was, mostly, and he knew that Aziraphale was being indulgent when he agreed.

“Of course, darling. Now I need to go change out of the sopping mess you've made of my clothes. Come and help me?”

Crowley stood, helping Aziraphale to his feet and following him up the stairs. Later, he guessed there would be some questions from the angel and some questions to answer for himself. Right now though, there were clothes to change out of, clothes to change in to, and in between a moment of nakedness he thought he could leverage into all sorts of wholly enjoyable things.

**Author's Note:**

> *”Yeah! I'll do a daddy kink story! That'll be nice and uncomplicated! That makes sense!”
> 
> *I've tagged as best I know how for this odd thing, but if you can think of any other tags that should go, please let me know. 
> 
> *I have feelings about Crowley having feelings about rebellion, safety, a certain kind of vengeance, and catharsis. 
> 
> *I've noticed that the Aziraphale I write is not the most cuddly person in the world. He's loving, but more standoffish than Crowley is. Nothing wrong with that, but I just bet he gives great hugs when he cares to.


End file.
